Strudel!
by Incandy
Summary: So the fighting's over, and no one's got anything else to do but date. There are only three left: Mokujin, Leo, and Bob. And I am so NOT writing about the tree.


Disclaimer: I don't own Tekken. At all. End of story.

And yeah, this story is, like, crack. Get over it.

* * *

Following exciting events, people usually tend to want to settle down. I believe the technical term is "getting your groove on."

Such a thing happened after the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. Once all the news crews stopped filming and the newspapers stopped flashing pictures at the winner: Mokujin, known as "That ($#& tree" among his - er, its - competitors. Many environmentalists were pleased at the block of wood tree-whatever winning, but that's not the point of what I'm trying to say here. Moving on.

Soon the "it" who won was forgotten, and the competitors frolicked off and began to separate into their nice little couples. Zafina and Miguel were after each other practically since the tournament started. Jin and Devil Jin got together, making everyone blink twice and go "what." Even Panda got a date with Kuma, even with her creepy butt-forward posing.

Yes, by the end of the month, everyone was dating someone. Except for three competitors.

Mokujin, of course, wasn't hooking up because, it's an it. A block of wood, end of story. No one cares.

This leaves two people.

Leo, a cute little androgynous German chick who no one wanted to date because they thought they'd be getting a prepubescent boy, which is not desirable...

...And Bob, the obese lumberjack. Very. Not. Desirable.

So no one was really surprised when the two started hanging out together. Boredom can lead to usually unexpected events (like a stick and bowling ball together, but I'm not even going there, except I so totally am). And of course, the two did start getting to know each other, gaining little inside jokes along the way, but no one seemed to see any long desirous glimpses into each other's eyes when they were in sight of the nearest competitor. Actually, since Bob and Leo were the hottest gossip around, they weren't ever OUT of sight, which began to get increasingly annoying, so they decided to get some privacy.

In a hotel room. The word got out in thirty minutes flat.

Needless to say, all the rooms on their floor were booked as soon as the word got out, which it did very fast, and even made Miguel and Zafina's presence in the hotel nothing to be excited about (although it was).

Of course, there were no stirs from the room. Absolutely nothing for days. Leo or Bob would go in and out, carrying some unidentifiable bags, whistling latino music, rap, or German industrial music as the went along, and then they shut the door when they entered and that was it. Silence.

So everyone got bored and decided to go home, since there was nothing else better to do. Miguel and Zafina even decided to shorted their stay and leave before they had "settled down" all they wanted. You know what I mean, ladies and gentlemen.

Zafina hummed "Hips Don't Lie" to herself, prancing down the hallway when Miguel paused in front of THAT room. Bob and Leo.

"Dude!" Zafina started, but Miguel held up one of his handsome Spanish fingers and put his handsome Spanish ear to the door.

"But DUDE! We gotta GO."

"CHICK! I'm trying to listen here!" Miguel snapped back. He leaned against the door again, pressing his ear to it, and almost instantly shot away from the door as an androgynous "oh yeah" and an obese seal-of-approval following it.

Miguel's face paled in horror as the noises grew louder and more frequent, and soon grabbed his luggage and sped off down the hallway.

"DUDE, where are you going?"

But the caballero rojo was gone.

Zafina, being the female and obviously smarter, but not sexier, knocked on the door twice and to her surprise, someone opened the door. A beaming androgynous someone who had flour puffing off of her clothes. Zafina recoiled back, her own apparel too good for the carby-goodness.

"Hmm, so what do you do with flour?" asked Zafina, her mind immediately going south. Flour would be good for her and Miguel.

Bob blinked, chocolate strudel halfway-shoved in his mouth, as he matter-of-factly replied "...Food. Duh."

"We're making German pastries!" Leo piped. "Wanna join?"

"Uh... Sure?" Zafina shrugged and stepped inside. Miguel wouldn't miss her for a couple of hours. And it wasn't like anyone would know she was going to be eating sugar, of all things.

...Until the word got out thirty minutes later.


End file.
